A Storm of Swords
by Hellstarz
Summary: Murtagh and Eragon must end their fight.


A Storm of Swords

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Even the wind seemed to sense the enormity of the moment – It picked up, casting leaves near and fear in a maddened circle, surrounding the plain. The very act drove everyone nearby back. For now, the fighting stopped. Four figures stood within the circle of wind – Two of them, tall, majestic, winged; Saphira and Thorn stood proud, eyeing each other with a hate that was so deep, you could only _guess _at it's existence.

But most eyes left the two for the remaining two figures. Mere metres separated them, and yet they were worlds apart. They appeared to be talking; it was hard to tell – The leaves got faster now – Some kind of divine force desired this event private, despite the thousands that watched with greedy eyes. A move – Murtagh stepped forward. And at last, a world-weary voice echoed over the plain.

"I repeat my offer. Don't be a fool. I am ever-stronger! Do you honestly _believe_ you can defeat me, now? You may have beat me last time – Yet I am something _else_ now. Why do you put up such a petty resistance? You, so _weak, _so _insolent_! Do you actually believe you can kill _him?_ Come with us! You might actually survive."

Eragon looked up. His eyes traced his old friend-come-enemy. He wore a simple breastplate, with faintly mottled whites and silvers – It was well made, and a pair of leather leggings, with chainmail draped over them. It wasn't particularly staggering – The armour was very light, but it did nothing to put Eragon's fear to rest. He knew how deadly a warrior stood before him; And he feared ever so much the sword that lay in the black scabbard at Murtagh's waist.

Eragon reached a decision. He didn't even need to ask Saphira – Her acceptance was there, clear and true, in his mind. With the speed only an elf could match, he drew Brisingr, and with a hearty yell, slashed crosswise at Murtagh's unprotected head.

Murtagh's response was even faster than Eragon believed possible. He stepped backwards, drawing Zar'roc and picking up a shield at the same time. He then _blocked_ Brisingr in it's downward course.

Murtagh spoke one word.

"Fool."

He struck out with Zar'roc then – Eragon leapt upwards, soaring high into the air, just managing to dodge the blade, moving so quickly it was a blur. Eragon was then in trouble coming back down. Guessing, he struck out, praying he had swung in the right direction. He had. With a curse, Murtagh moved backwards, Zar'roc moving from where it would of impaled him. Once again, Eragon swung downward, only to have Murtagh block the blade without breaking sweat.

"This is pointless. Give up, Eragon. Or are you a martyr, _brother?_

Saphira growled. Thorn, as large as Saphira now, growled back up. They had both been forced to remain still during the fight. Their respective opinions of this were evident. Thorn's blood red eyes and Saphira's ice-blue ones watched the fight from afar. Saphira, who saw hues of blue more vibrantly and reds duller, had trouble seeing Zar'roc in the evening light – Even so much, that occasionally, she believed Murtagh had lost the sword at several points. She knew Thorn was having the same problem with Brisingr.

Once again, Eragon was hampered by Murtagh's impossible speed. He did not deliberately kill Eragon – Though he had a ghastly feeling that if needed, Murtagh could probably move fast enough to decapitate him in some form. Eragon was outmatched – Though the better swordsman, he couldn't overcome the impossible speed with which Murtagh moved. He was bashed down on to the floor.

Murtagh laughed at him. Furious, Eragon lashed outward, slashing Murtagh's shin. When he only caused a slight cut, he grew angrier than ever. Murtagh, who roared with laughter now, barely even realized the fury Eragon had become berserk with.

"Brisingr!" The burst of light and fire that overcame the blade gave Murtagh pause; The distraction was all Eragon needed. He swung and moved with the speed of Murtagh. Catching him in the chest, the blade's bite was twice as deadly – Not only was the wound severe, it burnt the flesh, causing a tundra of blood to pour from the wound.

Eragon relied on the fact he had this advantage – As clear as glass, he drove himself at Murtagh's conciseness. Before Murtagh could heal himself, he stopped him from saying the word. Murtagh's eyes bulged – _Fear, _ perhaps? He desperately fought against Eragon, seeking to strike his way out of the mental battle that raged _inside_ them, but Eragon gave no ground. The anger that had rose within him allowed no quarter – He wouldn't let Murtagh escape from this one, oh no.

Murtagh pushed with renewed strength now – Thorn, though hidden from Eragon, knew that his sheer mind wouldn't escape detection, reassured Murtagh and helped him fight back. Just as they believed that Eragon could be driven back, they faltered – Saphira joined the fray. At the speed never recorded by thought in history, a monumental engagement channelled between the two. Sometimes Eragon and Saphira seemed to be winning, sometimes Murtagh and Thorn seemed to drive the pair back, and all the while Murtagh bled. The two poured their energy into the fight. Eragon had no clue from where it came from, but his anger was like nothing he'd felt before.

_Murtagh must die!_ It said. _Murtagh...must...die!_

Helpless to resist it, Eragon pushed harder. And quite suddenly, Murtagh gave an anguished cry – The sound over the silent plain distracting all parties and the battle ceased. But the damage had been done – Murtagh's wound was beyond repair. Thorn growled – The sheer _fury_ of his roar shocked Eragon.

_What have I done?_

Yet Murtagh pushed now. Tears flowed from his cheeks – _The pain must be great_ – He struck out at Eragon. Yet his movement had dulled – Though extremely fast, Eragon could fight back. A clang as Zar'roc and Brisingr collided; and then parted, and collided. Though too fast for the assembled humans on the plain's eyes to see, they could relate to this kind of fight. By a sword was, after all, how most of them lived.

Still the fight dragged on! Eragon's arm grew heavy. He and Murtagh dealt each other only minor blows – A scratch here and there, and yet they still kept bleeding. Eragon did not have time to heal himself – The fight was far too quick to think about the words for a healing spell.

And now Eragon suffered. Murtagh still had the energy to continue – His _stolen_ energy came in bounds, as one Eldunari was exhausted, he settled into another, and it was evident he had just been refreshed. Eragon hid his discomfort as best he could – But it was obvious. Ever so steadily, he slowed, until at last, Murtagh struck with the flat of the blade and he was thrown backward.

Breathing heavily, Eragon whispered "You...you won't...won't take us..."

Murtagh's eyes were cruel. "We won't take you? Quite right! We won't take you in this state. First we shall make you _suffer._

And with that, Murtagh plunged Zar'roc into Saphira.

The pain was immense, and yet it gave Eragon newfound strength. His only thoughts were for Saphira, who struck out at Murtagh; free of the oaths before the battle that had been broken through attacking her. Thorn roared, and through Saphira's freedom, found his own. He leapt forward, barrelling into Saphira and knocking her over. They were a mess of wings and scales, snapping heads and infuriated eyes.

Eragon rose, clutching Brisingr, pain _everywhere_, and made to cut at Murtagh. Another laugh, and anger like that had overtaken Eragon earlier, broke the hand that Eragon had free, and with a move so quick Eragon gasped at it's speed, cut the hand off, and kicked Eragon backward.

Saphira howled like never before. The entire world seemed to shake with the sheer force of her lament – The pain rose up and he gasped, disbelieving. He fell to the floor.

_How did this happen?_

"Do you understand now?" Murtagh's voice was mocking. "Ha! Look! Even now, The Varden are bathed in fear. Nasuada stand back like the coward she is. Ah, fair Arya! Galbatorix was so angry to learn of her escape. It's best he doesn't know I took part in it, eh? Whoever saw an elf cry? I suppose there's a first time for everything. So weak, Eragon. Why do you fight me? Even now, there is murder in your eyes! It really is over, you know."

Eragon realized then. Even through the pain, he thought: _There is nothing of Murtagh left. If I go with him, I shall become the mirror of him, and we shall become the next set of the Forsworn._

"No!" Eragon's own voice was louder than he believed possible.

"You...you have made your last mistake, M-Murtagh. Why...Why do I fight?" Eragon's voice grew angry, and he felt the spark of the earlier emotion rise up within him. "I fight for the world. I fight for the birds and the trees and the Humans. I fight for the Dwarves, the Urgals and the Elves. I fight for Oromis and Glaedr. I fight for Nasuada and the Varden." The spark caught – Like a flame, white fury overtook him.

"I fight for Life!"

Murtagh's eyes widened - And fear was evident in his voice. "It's over, Eragon! You can't defeat me or Thorn! Let go!"

_I fight for Saphira and Arya. _Memories of them flushed through his mind - Saphira hatching, feeding her and stealing food - Rescuing Arya - And though he felt her rebuffs, he remembered his love for her - And that gave him strength.

With his remaining hand, he grasped Brisingr. And with a move so quick Murtagh barely even saw it, he rose and charged Murtagh. With a final yell of Brisingr – He blinded Murtagh, and then, anxiety pouring from his heart – He brought the blade round, and beheaded Murtagh. Not even pausing, he rolled backward – Ignoring the fear and anguish of Thorn's cry – And brought the blade down on Thorn's neck, thus freeing Saphira from where she was pinned underneath him.

And at last, he stepped back – Gasping with the emotions inside him, he dropped Brisingr.

The storm of swords had ended.

And the leaves, that circled the plain on which the four had fought, at last settled, and all beheld the dreadful scene.

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**As much as I really like the idea of Murtagh becoming free and joining the Varden and eventually helping fight Galbatorix, I can't help but feel it will only end with blood. It's suprising how dark these are to write; And I can't tell if it's a good thing that I found it quite easy. These seem to be rare enough on Fanfiction - We need more darkness and despression!  
**


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